"And what shoulder, and what art,

Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand, and what dread feet?" - William Blake, The Tyger

The nigh-impossible to hit body of a young King Taijitu, the wings of a Nevermore, and the fangs of a Beowolf. The Grimm Jaune was facing now had them all. And he hated it. All of his least favorite features from his least favorite Grimm combined into one unholy chimera straight from his nightmares, and he had nobody around to help him fight it. This was just not his lucky day.

The Grimm tried to strike again, and got a slam in the head from Jaune's shield for it's troubles. He was on the defensive now, slowly edging towards the gates of the village he'd been guarding. If he could just get close enough, he could call for help. He knew none of his traveling companions slept deeply, and that they were just within the walls. Before the Grimm could strike again, however, a red blur slammed into and quite literally ripped it in two. When Jaune saw his savior, his heart dropped.

It was a small Beowolf, with red fur and glowing green eyes. It was clearly young, with only a small circular bone plate in the center of its chest. The thing sat on its haunches a stared intently at Jaune, its face expressionless. Jaune wanted to attack it. A beowolf this young wouldn't be a challenge, even for him. But something held him back, a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that told him to stay his hand. Against his better judgement, he did so. For several moments he just stood there, his own eyes locked with the Grimm's. He couldn't deny that the thing was beautiful, in the odd way any animal capable of tearing you apart as easily as it looking at you was.

The Grimm lumbered to its paws and began to approach Jaune. He raised his sword and shield and assumed a fighting stance, and the thing stopped. It growled quietly, and without warning rushed forward and knocked Jaune off his feet. He kicked it off him and scrambled back, but before he could counter attack he was hit with an overwhelming sense of joy, and his mind filled with memories that weren't his own. He couldn't even begin to focus on one before another took it's place. It was terrifying, but at the same time exhilarating. The constant stream of memories began to slow, and the feeling of joy was replaced by fear. Fear of being rejected, fear of not being recognized, fear of being killed. The memories grew darker, more painful.

"Knock it off!" Jaune shouted in desperation. The Grimm howled in pain, and the emotion changed to helplessness. Jaune struggled to make sense of the ceaseless flow of information. Finally, he picked out something he recognized - the auditorium back at Beacon - and latched onto it. He realized his mistake too late.

All around her, students spoke in hushed tones. Some were nervous, others excited. She let it all sink in, and carefully observed everyone around her. Their weapons, their armor, even how they carried themselves. It could all give her an edge in battle. None of them had her confidence, her skill, or her experience. She casually brushed a stray strand of crimson hair from her face, and allowed herself to hum in contentment. She was in her element.

"H-Hey, wait up!" She turned her head and saw a tall young man desperately calling out to a young girl with dark red hair. The girl waved, but did not stop or turn. Pyrrha grinned in amusement as the young man's shoulders slumped and he sighed with dejection. "Great. Where am I supposed to find another nice, quirky girl to talk to?"

You barely knew the handle of your sword from the blade back then.

Jaune regained consciousness slowly and with a terrible headache. All the while, a familiar voice spoke to him calmly. Well, no, it wasn't speaking, not exactly. It was more like it was sending him impressions and ideas, and his mind translated them into words. Jaune knew instinctively this was a far more efficient and primal way of communication.

But you were too proud to admit it to anyone. To me, to Ren, to Nora...even to yourself. You were determined to be the hero, and you were determined to do it on your own.

"I know." Jaune groaned. His mouth felt like it was full of wet cotton balls. "I know. I was an idiot."

Yes. Yes, you were. But your heart was in the right place. I knew that. I know that.

"Who...?" Jaune mumbled. After what he'd seen, he knew what this Grimm was. Who she was. But he couldn't believe it. He needed confirmation of some sort, from the Grimm itself.

I'm so sorry, Jaune. I...I had hoped...I'm sorry...

"Pyrrha..." Jaune choked back a sob. "What...how...?"

Pyrrha curled up on the ground next to him and closed her eyes. Not now, Jaune. Just rest.